


Stress Management

by youjik33



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-17 14:30:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5874139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjik33/pseuds/youjik33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared gives Richard some suggestions for coping with his stress levels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Management

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lies_d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lies_d/gifts).



Richard is bent over the bathroom sink, holding his breath, and Jared is stroking his back.

The stroking may or may not actually be helping, but Jared's the one who told him that he should hold his breath if he's on the verge of hyperventilating, and it turns out that's good advice. After a minute Richard can breathe normally again, can listen to Jared's voice over the blood pounding in his head.

"Have you tried meditation?" Jared asks.

"Kind of. It doesn't help. I'm not good at forcing myself to think calm thoughts. I just end up latching onto the stuff I was already worrying about instead."

"I could lend you a CD of whale songs, if you want. They certainly help me. And a healthier diet couldn't hurt; this house seems to run entirely on caffeine and sodium. When's the last time you had an orgasm?"

It takes a second for that to sink in. "...what?" Richard feels the muscles in his back go tense under Jared's fingertips.

"I'm sorry, that was indelicate of me. Don't feel like you have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable. I just thought, you've been busy lately, you might have been neglecting your physical needs-"

"No, you actually have a point," Richard concedes. "Do you think you could...?"

"You want me to help?"

Richard looks at his own face in the mirror, his eyes wide with panic. He can't look at Jared. The hand on his back has stopped, Jared's fingers resting on the back of his neck.

"Sorry. That was weird. I shouldn't have – sorry."

"No, it's fine, I don't mind," Jared says, and next thing Richard knows, Jared's locking the bathroom door.

"Oh, okay, you're doing this right now," Richard says, and then Jared's undoing the top button of his pants. Richard squeezes his eyes shut, because the bathroom mirror is right there and he really does not want to watch himself like this.

It really has been too long. Richard's just had other things to worry about, never mind the lack of privacy that comes with living in a house full of people. Jared's hand slips down the front of Richard's boxers, gentle but firm, and Richard's hard almost instantly. He grabs onto Jared's shoulders, bites his lip to keep quiet. Jared has big hands. Richard is actually shaking under his touch, choking back a needy whine. He comes so fast it would be embarrassing if Jared weren't so matter-of-fact. He murmurs "There we go," sounding nothing but pleased with himself, and cleans Richard up with a tissue.

"Thanks," Richard says once he's found his voice again.

"Any time."

 

* * *

 

Richard sleeps better that night than he has in a long time, but he doesn't have any intention of doing it again. Instead he buys himself a white noise machine and starts taking multivitamins, figuring they can't exactly hurt. He does seem to sleep a little better, for a while, but one evening, after spending the whole day quietly freaking out about the impending Intersite bake-off, he finds himself leaning back in his desk chair with Jared kneeling between his legs. He can't remember which of them suggested it. It's hard to think clearly with Jared's tongue running up the underside of his cock. He moans, then covers his mouth with the palm of his hand. Jared looks up at him, mouth wet with saliva and pre-come, then reaches over to turn the white noise machine on. Any further noises Richard makes are lost in the soothing sounds of running water.

"Don't you think you should be using a different setting?" Jared asks after. "What with your, uh, issue?"

"For God's sake, Jared, I have never wet the bed," Richard huffs. Jared seems completely unfazed by the fact that Richard's just come in his mouth.

"Just trying to help," he says.

Richard avoids eye contact. "I know."

 

* * *

 

 

Richard doesn't think too deeply about it. He wouldn't even know where to start. Instead he just lets it happen, like Jared giving him blowjobs is a favor on par with emptying the trash or bringing in the mail. What Jared's doing for him is supposed to be stress _relief_. Richard can't waste energy thinking about what it means, not on top of everything else, not even when it keeps happening.

 

* * *

 

He barely sleeps the night before the arbitration ruling. He just lies facedown on his bed, listening to the artificial sound of a babbling brook. Somewhere up in the mountains a museum worker is crying to himself on camera; Richard finds himself wishing that his own problems were that straightforward, and that he had a professional rescue team coming in the morning instead of a group from Hooli legal. He's actually a little bit envious of that guy, he realizes. What a shitty thing to think.

So he doesn't ask Jared for help that night. He doesn't really deserve it.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard is in a daze when he hangs up the phone. Everyone is staring at him. His own voice seems to be coming from somewhere else. "I just got fired," he hears it say. He tries to put his phone back in his pocket, but it clatters to the floor. He stands there looking at the four of them sitting around the table and feels like he's surveying the ruins of a fallen empire.

"I have to get out of here," he says, and heads for the door even though he has no idea where he's going.

He throws up in the bushes next to the driveway, and is still bent over and retching when Jared touches his shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asks softly.

"Of course I'm not all right," Richard snaps. His voice is rough with anger and he hopes Jared understands that it isn't directed at him. He's still wearing his fucking tie, the one Gavin Belson tied for him, and he yanks it loose and throws it down the driveway.

"You want to come to my place? I'll make you some tea," Jared says. Richard just nods, lets Jared guide him inside.

They don't speak at all while Jared prepares the tea and Richard drinks it at the kitchen table.

"Do you want to stay?" Jared asks. "Would it help?"

Richard knows what he's really asking. "It might," he says. "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe nothing can. Oh my God." He stands abruptly, almost knocking the chair over, but his knees feel weak and he only makes it to the living room couch before collapsing again.

"You don't have to," Richard says. "You don't... you don't work for me any more, you shouldn't..."

"What if I want to?" Jared says. There's an intensity in his voice Richard has never heard before – no, that's not quite true. Richard's seen Jared lose his composure exactly once, that night at TechCrunch Disrupt, and that had been right after he'd spent days locked in a shipping container.

"Okay," Richard says. Jared sits on the edge of the couch and reaches for Richard's belt, but Richard grabs his wrist. Jared looks at him, his eyes bright and questioning and so eager to please.

 _Why?_ The word sticks in Richard's throat. He can't bring himself to ask. Instead he sits up, and when he leans in for a kiss he feels Jared gasp in surprise under his lips before he starts kissing back.

 


End file.
